The city's heartbeat slowed at night. What once was bustling and alive turned into a hollow echo of concrete and dim streetlights. Tamiki and her friend strolled through the outskirts of downtown, their laughter fading with every step into the quieter part of the neighborhood.
Tamiki glanced at her phone. "If we cut through here, we can get home ten minutes faster."
Her friend hesitated, eyeing the dimly lit alley. "I don't know… this place gives me the creeps."
Tamiki nudged her playfully. "Come on, we'll be fine. Don't be such a baby."
Reluctantly, they turned into the shortcut.
The alley was narrow, with graffiti-painted walls and trash cans lining the sides. The silence grew heavier with each step. Then—
Footsteps.
Five men stepped out of the darkness ahead, spreading across the narrow path like they owned it. The leader, a tall man with a cigarette dangling from his lips, grinned wickedly.
"Well, well. What do we have here?" he said, flicking the cigarette aside.
Tamiki froze. Her friend clutched her arm.
Another thug stepped closer, licking his lips. "You two lost? We can help you… for a price."
Before either girl could reply—
Clink.
A small sound echoed through the alley — the metallic rattle of an empty can being kicked.
All five thugs turned their heads.
A lone figure stood at the alley's mouth. The streetlight above flickered, casting his shadow long across the ground. He looked young, maybe no older than twenty. His hair was wild, styled in a sharp wolfcut, and he wore a black Detroit jacket that caught the wind just slightly, like a hunter stepping into his territory. His hands, tucked loosely at his sides, were covered in sleek black gloves—worn not just for warmth, but purpose. The kind of gloves that didn't leave fingerprints.
He said nothing.
"Who the hell are you?" one of the thugs asked, squinting into the low light.
The figure slowly raised his hand — not in surrender, but to pull out a chain from beneath his jacket. Hanging from it was a red dog tag. It swayed gently under the flickering light.
The thug laughed. "Ooooh, flashy necklace! Bro, you can't just walk in here and act like you're someone. Who even are you?"
He swaggered forward, laughing, face twisted with amusement. "Come on, kid. What are you gonna do—"
SHUNK.
The laughter stopped mid-sentence.
A flash of silver. A spray of blood.
The young man had pulled a bayonet from a hidden strap under his jacket and, in one clean motion, sliced through the thug's neck. The body stood upright for half a second before collapsing to the ground, head rolling a few feet away.
The alley fell into stunned silence.
The remaining thugs backed away instinctively, eyes wide.
The leader shouted, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
One of them, the smartest of the bunch, went pale. "That dog tag… I've heard about it. He's one of them. The special task agents. No laws, no limits. They work in the shadows, ghosts sanctioned by the higher-ups. There's only one allowed in the country at a time… I didn't think it would be him."
The stranger tilted his head, eyes calm and unreadable. "Thanks for the explanation. So no need for introductions, then."
The leader turned to the smart thug. "Well?! What do we do now?!"
The thug's voice cracked. "We beg. We beg for our lives."
The smart thug raised his hands. "Hey, look, man… please don't kill us. Your knife's way too sharp, and honestly? Super dangerous. So… how about we pretend this never happened? No need to waste your energy, right?"
The stranger stared at him, then gave the faintest smirk. Teji gave a small nod, almost as if he agreed.
"You're right," he said quietly.
In one calm motion, he slid the bloodied bayonet back beneath his jacket. The thugs visibly relaxed, exchanging glances, some even letting out nervous chuckles. For a brief moment, they believed they had survived the night.
But that moment vanished as quickly as it came.
The stranger's gloved hand dipped into his jacket again and drew out a sleek black pistol fitted with a silencer. His movements were clean, practiced — mechanical.
Before anyone could react, three soft flashes lit up the alley. No loud bangs, just sharp, muted thumps.
One after another, the three thugs dropped to the ground, lifeless.
Silent.
Cold.
Precise.
Only the smart one remained.
But instead of aiming for the kill, the stranger shot four more times — each bullet tearing into a limb. The thug screamed and collapsed, bleeding, crying out in agony.
The young man stepped forward, pointing the gun to the thug's head.
"Go beg to your god," he said, his voice icy. "Not me."
Click.
Empty.
He looked at the gun, then at the thug. "Out of bullets. I'm too lazy to reload. Guess it's your lucky day."
He stepped back, pulled out a phone from his jacket, and said flatly, "Clear. Send medical team to my location."
Then he turned his eyes to Tamiki and her friend. They hadn't moved — too stunned to even speak.
"You both okay?" he asked. "Good. Now go home."
He turned and began walking away.
But Tamiki found her voice. "Wait… It's you, Teji, right? Where have you been all this time?"
He paused.
"I should've stayed dead," he said quietly. "And you should go home."
Then, like smoke in the night, he vanished into the shadows.
[End of Chapter 1]